Firsts
by electrictwizist
Summary: "I don't remember the exact moment I fell in love with you. It just sort of... happened. There were so many yous, it's difficult to keep track." [INDEFINITE HIATUS.]
1. The Hotel Lobby

_Firsts | Summary: Rachel Berry has had a lot of firsts. It only seemed natural that when that pattern started breaking, only Quinn Fabray could be the girl to put everything back together. Disclaimer on profile._

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><p>December 24th, 2015.<p>

Quinn-

I remember the first time I drove outside of Lima, when my small bubble of life had been popped and the world didn't seem so small after all.

I was ten.

It had taken hours to drive all the way to the Amphitheater in Columbus. Daddy was a lightweight, so the second it turned ten (we were driving there the night before), he fell straight asleep. I was more like Dad, though. I was too excited, even then, to consider closing my eyes. My hands, normally calmly placed in my lap, were wringing together in anticipation. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest the entire time, which at first was a calamity of the highest proportions but eventually turned into a steady rhythm that blocked out the loudest of noises surrounding me. The road raced past my window, as mile upon mile melted without any semblance of time. There was no such thing as Time in this strange half-out place. The not quite Lima but not yet Columbus of it all frightened and excited me at the same time. The idea of New York had yet to enter my brain, because I panicked at the thought of ever leaving my fathers behind. Even now, fifteen years later, and I still grasp my hand out to my side whenever I cross the street. Only this time, the hand I'm imagining is smaller than my father's, and softer, her hand enveloping mine completely and causing a rush of warmth through my arm.

But that's a story for another time. For this night, it was dark, and in that darkness built anticipation. The kind that has been building in my life ever since I first watched _Annie_ days after I was born and has continued to grow with every passing day. Dad tapped his fingers against the wheel while Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_ played quietly, its soft lullaby doing nothing to ease my pounding heart.

_Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump._

Dad pulled into the hotel parking lot, finding a spot close to the entrance. When the car stopped, I could see that his hands were tightening on the wheel, indecision in his eyes. Should he wake Daddy up, and have all of us walk into the lobby? (An action that would've screamed _'We're different!'_ to anyone lurking there at ten at night). Or should he wake his husband up to stay in the car while he got the hotel keys, while Daddy and I waited outside in bated breathe for the man that was essentially the rock of our family? Looking back, I can imagine his predicament. Him and Daddy were in their late-20s, and being out in a town like Lima was definitely not something they were used to yet, even after being there for years. You never know when hatred in someone's heart could strike, even when everything appeared safe. They always had to be on their guard.

We know that more than anybody, don't we?

But, I was a child, and I wanted what I wanted, which at this point and time was to march straight into that lobby and charm every single employee and resident there. I wanted to flaunt off my new traveling coat that I had just gotten for my birthday a few days ago. To put it simply, I wanted to be the star. And the idea that I would get anything different was simply not in my nature.

But I was young, and at ten that quality is considered adorable by adults, and so I was given what I wanted; well, a compromise. Dad and I would enter the intimidating hotel entrance, grab our door keys from the snotty people behind the front desk, and hurry back outside to help Daddy grab our bags to drag them back to the room before collapsing onto my very own king-sized bed.

And so, with my hand firmly wrapped around Dad's, with a plan in mind, we entered the threshold of the dragon's den.

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><p>The hotel was just as threatening on the inside as it felt on the outside. I could feel the plush carpet with every step we took towards the main desk, the lack of stability sending shivers up my gangly legs and straight to my core. If this was any other place, I would have wanted to take off my ballet flats and luxuriate in the soft feeling of the carpet against my toes, but even at ten I knew that wasn't something you did in public, especially when all eyes were on you the second you walked into a building - like now. I had felt the glares of the parents at school events when I sat with my two fathers, and had been pushed once or twice on the playground just because (an excuse second to my classmates' you're weird, that's why), but I had never felt completely powerless before, until this moment. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their clarity sending colorful shimmers against the stark walls and furniture. But, I was not one to be intimidated, and neither was Dad. Onward we went, like the front line of a war brigade, exhausted but finding the strength within them to fight to their very last breath. Dad was, and still is, the most courageous man I know. I'd like to think I got some of my persistence from him.<p>

Finally reaching the desk, I hit the bell once, the loud ring filling the room as we waited for someone to come and help us. I tried to stand still like my father, but after a few minutes of my poor imitation of him I grew tired of playing that game and instead decided that he was now a tower meant for climbing. I grabbed his arms, a monologue forming from my brain and effortlessly leaving my mouth as easy as a flick of a wrist from a painter could create a masterpiece.

"And then, Rachel the explorer found the mountain known by the villagers as Daddy Mount-" I grabbed his arm, pulling myself up, my legs wrapping around my towering 6'8" father. His face remained composed, but I could see the hint of a smile on his face. "Eager to prove herself worthy to her classmates, Rachel the explorer climbed up the base, reaching the forf-" My eyebrows furrowed. "A for-"

"Forficate, dear."

"Yes, the fork in the road. Where to go? And then, all of a sudden, an avalanche hit - "

Before I could even tell him of how Rachel the Explorer saved all of the town villagers, making them regret ever doubting her amazing mountaineer climbing skills, the silence of the lobby broke as a ding from the other side of the room indicated that another family had entered just behind us. I turned around, and seeing girls my age, instantly looked back at my father with my very own pout (one that we've talked about before, Quinn, that you think should be branded. I'm still going to pretend I'm not flattered every time you say that. Because, well, the apologies are the best part).

He laughed openly now, knowing the pout as well as everyone who spends time with me does. Before I could do my signature floor stomp, Dad nodded in approval as the desk clerk finally came around to help him sign into our room.

Taking the nod as assent, I climbed down from my father and ran over to the girls immediately, taking in their appearance as I got closer to the pair. One was older than me, but even though her clothes were the prettiest things I've ever seen, her nose was held as high into the air as physically possible, her blonde hair harshly pulled behind her ears into a low ponytail. It was the other girl that held more interest to me. Dirty blonde hair, with hazel eyes that were almost imperceptible with her small framed glasses that were precariously perched on her nose, her hand moving up to push them up the bridge every few seconds. She was around my size, and she was wearing a sweater with an animal on it! I could already tell we were going to be fast friends.

But before I could introduce myself, the elder girl barked out a question. "Who are you?" She pursed her lips, allowing herself to show a slightly crueler edge as both of her parents went to the desk, waiting behind my father. "We're the Fabrays. Surely you know of us." The younger girl scoffed next to her, earning a glare from what I imagined at the time (correctly) to be her older sister. "I'm Francesca, but friends call me Frannie." She looked again at my disheveled appearance. I didn't see anything wrong with me, but she must have because her sneer turned even more unattractive, as if she smelled something bad in the room. "_You_, don't call me anything.." She flicked her hand briefly over to the girl next to her, but it didn't look like she really noticed her much. She didn't even look her in the eyes." This is my little sister, Lucy."

Lucy. What a pretty name. What a pretty girl. Her eyes were locked onto mine, and I smiled despite myself. This other girl, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice that at all. Unlike her sister, I had no problems with standing up for myself. "Hi, my name's Rachel Barbra, as in Streisand." I smirked, my hands on my hip. Unlike Lucy, who seemed to be already folding within herself at the very idea of conflict, I rose to the challenge. "That's my dad, over there. He's getting our room keys. We're here to see The Lion King." Okay, I was bragging. But you remember Frannie; she was and is to this day an insufferable know-it-all, especially back then. She could be taken down a few pegs, and I love being the one who's doing it.

"_Him_?" She pointed towards the desk, where my father was quietly speaking to the man behind the desk, filling out paperwork and asking questions as only a lawyer knows how. "Isn't he a little, well..."

"Well, _what_?"

"Dark?"

My fists balled up, a gasp emerging from somewhere but later revealed to be Lucy.

"Why are you being so mean, Frannie?" Lucy turned back towards me, her hazel eyes somehow causing my muscles to relax slightly, for my heartbeat to slow down. "We're going too. To the Lion King, I mean." She smiled slightly, a flush coming up her neck and reaching her cheeks. "It's my favorite movie, and so for Christmas my dad said we could go here for the weekend."

"She doesn't need our life story, Luce." Frannie walked over to me, towering over me in her four years of seniority. "You're going to the show too? Honestly, they'll let anyone in, won't they?"

"Leave her alone!" I closed my mouth, shocked, as the soft-spoken girl in front of me practically barked at her older sister. Fearing the worst, I looked surprised when Frannie merely smirked back at her.

"My, my. Already so touchy. Fine, far be it for me to stand in between true soul mates. Besides, that bell boy has been looking at me for ages and you two are boring me." Without a second thought, she walked away, her steps looking as stiff and frozen as her entire personality did. I turned back to Lucy, smiling as the girl shook slightly at what just happened. My hand unconsciously slid into her own, my thumb rubbing the top of her hand in comfort, and she looked backed up as a soft smile filled her face.

"You didn't have to do that for me." I whispered, never usually so solemn.

She nodded. "Yes .I think I did, Rachel." Then, before I could even register it, I felt a quick soft press to my cheek as her lips met it, before a quick flush covered her face and she walked towards her parents.

My hand never left my cheek that night, even as I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

"Good night, Lucy."

If I closed my eyes hard enough, I could almost imagine her saying it back.

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><p><strong>AN: Dedicated to the following: Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray, for taking over my heart; Emily, for causing me untold amounts of faberry feelings this week; Kris, the sick girl who enabled me to jump over that hurdle of writing again, however short; Alix, for getting crazy excited for something when she probably shouldn't have; Ellen, for letting me message her countless times today which got my writing slash beta juices flowing; and most of all, Laura, who's opinion matters the most to me and who I wouldn't trade for anything. I love you guys, and you the most. I'm not going to say which one I mean by you, but you know who you are. It's you if you are shaking your head like "it couldn't be me". I hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. The Zoo Proposal

December 24th, 2015.

Quinn-

After that moment in the hotel lobby, it took me almost two more years to run into you again.

It wasn't for lack of trying, mind you. Even at the semi-tender age of ten, I had a habit of latching onto things that I liked with a decisiveness that people still find terrifying. When I found Broadway and liked it, it became an obsession. One of those things included my wardrobe - animal sweaters, plaid, and short skirts to name a few (although, in later years, the short skirts were mostly for your benefit).

Another thing was you.

And so, while other children were listening to NSYNC and passing notes in class, I was listening to the soundtrack of my favorite musicals and taking notes in class. When they spent their lunch times sitting with their friends and reading fashion magazines, I was sitting in the library, quietly breaking the "no eating in the library" rule, sitting on their poor excuse of a computer and looking up "Lucy Fabray" daily only to come up with nothing, A handmade PBJ sandwich in my left hand was brought up stealthily every time Mrs. Cole's harsh gaze went back down to her Daily New York Times crossword puzzle. After a few months of this, it became sort of habitual. At first, it was only a way to kill time before looking around the biography section of the library to see if there were any new books, but once I transferred to middle school, it was a safety net. A haven, the library was a sort of middle-school safe zone. I don't know whether it was the quiet solemnity that the entire room had, the fact that being quietly scolded by Mrs. Cole was something akin to having your skin peeled from the inside out, or maybe the bullies of the school didn't even know we had a library.

After that first time of going to Lima Elementary's library, the feeling of walking through the quiet aisles was addictive, as well as the safest place I knew to hide from the verbal ridicule of my peers. And looking you up became something much more important - that somewhere out there, there was a girl that saw behind my argyle sweaters and the effects of my nightly memorization from words of the dictionary and saw something that no one else did. A potential friend. And so I kept looking. Obviously, this was 2006, so my internet prowess wasn't exactly up to par. Even considering that, though, it's not as if the Internet would have that much information on a 13 year old out there in the world-wide web. I couldn't think of anything else to do, though, so I looked. I would have done only that, maybe never getting a chance to meet you again, if it wasn't for Brittany Pierce.

Now, the Santana Lopez you met freshman year of high school and the one I met at sixth grade orientation were pretty much of the same ken. The seventh grader had already managed to rule the school with an iron fist, crushing even the older kids under her weight. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into the tight ponytail that I never saw lowered again until junior year of high school, and her arm was locked with a slightly taller blonde with a soft expression that greatly contrasted her friend's. I was sitting at the table in the corner at the time, absent-mindedly flipping through my history book, but upon seeing them corrected my posture straight away and waited for them to walk over, my eyes lowered. You don't let your guard down around them, either of them.

"Hi, Rachel! I knew you would be here." My safe space instantly violated, I looked up at the perpetrators to see a flash of red and white in front of me (the Lima Middle Cheering uniform), and arms stretched out.

"H-hi Brittany." Briefly, I glanced up into Santana's eyes, trying to read her expression but coming up short. Brittany's arms were still out, waiting. "I, um...I trust that both of you have had a pleasant su-"

Santana rolled her eyes, an expression that I was now common to seeing on her face, before crossing her arms in front of her chest and giving me her best glare. "Okay, Motormouth, we didn't come in here to play 20 questions. Now, are you going to let my girl Britt-Britt hold out her arms forever? Because, like, the fact that she's risking catching some sort of hobbit disease just standing within five feet of you should make you want to kiss our ass in gratitude."

Somehow, I had already angered the beast. "...um, what?"

The blonde standing in front of me grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. "Ignore San, she's like my Dutch grandmother who sometimes visits on Christmas. Even though you can understand what she's saying, you still need me to translate or else she'll spit in your food." I looked at Santana, confused, but decided that Brittany was definitely the safer bet. "What Santana means to say is that we saw Jessica Waters say something mean about you, like super mean, and so now Santana decided that we can like you now. So you and me don't have to be secret friends anymore."

Now both of us were confused. "I'm sorry, Brittany, but I have no idea what you're talking about. Secret friends?"

Now she rolled her eyes, the action even more perfected. So that's where Santana got it from. It was one of those many moments when I couldn't tell whether Brittany was actually stupid like everyone said she was, or the now more likely version that she just liked talking in riddles to confuse people. Either way, I didn't know how to handle talking with her. But again, she was more easy going than Santana, so. "Duh, Rachel. You can't fool me anymore - you're the Cookie Monster." When our expressions still looked as confused, if not more so, Brittany explained. "See, ever since the beginning of middle school, someone kept putting a plate of cookies on the teacher's desk for homeroom for everyone to eat and a little doodle for everyone to look at. I thought it was the troll that lives underneath Ms. Fields' desk, but her legs are too long so that wouldn't be a good place to live. But then one day, I saw you putting the plate out for everyone when I went to put a secret note in Santana's desk. And then after that, we were secret friends, right? Cause like, I called you Berry because you're sweet like berries, and you called me Brittany which is short for my name, Brittany." She waited a beat, and then continued. "Stand up."

Not really having very much of a choice, I complied. Suddenly, a set of thin arms were wrapped around my stomach as I was lifted up slightly in what could aptly be described as the tightest hug I've ever experienced in my life. "Britt, not that I'm complaining, but I think you're killing her. So either go all the way or stop now, because there ain't no way I'm visiting Short Stack in the hospital."

"Oh!" Brittany gasped, before finally putting me down. After catching my breath, I looked up at the strange pair. "Anyway, now that we're best friends, I wanted to ask you a question. But you have to say yes okay?"

"I can't promise my agreement prior to understa-"

"Okay, yes then." I began to argue, but then just gave up and sat back down. They followed, Brittany scooting her chair close to mine. "This Saturday is my birthday. So, Daddy is going to take me and San to the zoo so I can see the ducks and the lizards."

"Alright..."

"I want to go into the magical section too, but Santana says we need a hobbit to get in so I was wondering if you could come with us!"

_Wait, what?_

Brittany giggled slightly, and did that confusing almost-smirk again. "Just kidding. I just wanted to see the funny face you would make. But really, we are going to the zoo. And he said I could bring a third. I was going to ask Jessica, but then she said you were as gross as gummy bears. Which is weird, because I love gummy bears. So now you're my new Jessica. So can you come, Jessica?"

And I thought I talked a lot. "I have a few stipulations that I need you to agree to before I can say yes."

Brittany's eyebrows furrowed, "What do staples have t-", but nodded after Santana quietly whispered in her ear. "Okay, go."

"First, you two have to promise me that you won't do anything to physically or emotionally damage me. Granted, there is little else you could do to damage my emotional self-esteem as it is through the roof, but I really don't want anything to be escalated. Agreed?"

Brittany nodded seriously. "Don't be mean, got it. Anything else?"

_Oh. _

To be honest, that was really all I had. I was expecting some sort of disagreement from Santana, but for most of this conversation she had remained uncharacteristically quiet, instead spending her time fiddling with the frayed edges of Brittany's uniform sleeve. "Only one more thing - that we can go see the fish. They're my favorite species to see whenever I go to the zoo." Brittany looked at Santana, and when receiving only a distracted nod in response, the brunette obviously not caring too much about this conversation, her friend turned back and smiled so large her face look fit to break.

"Operation 'Bring Rachel to the Zoo so We Can Be Friends Like San and Me Only Not As Cool Because San Is The Best' is a go!"

After a quick squeeze to the hand, Brittany waved goodbye wordlessly, dragging Santana behind her.

I was already regretting my decision.

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><p>"But, Daddy, I simply must go! If I don't, I'll surely die!"<p>

Okay, so I didn't regret it for long.

After spending the next fifty minutes in the library thinking about it, plus three classes and the 20 minute drive back home, my mind was firmly made up. I wasn't completely naive at the invitation given by the two most popular girls in school. Now, Brittany wasn't mean by any standards, but she was wasn't dumb enough to risk her reputation just for me. Also, insanely devoted to her best friend Santana. If the brunette wanted to randomly decide that I was an easy target again, Brittany would have no problem going back to treating me the way she did before. She wouldn't like it, but Santana ranked infinitely higher than I did on the blonde's list of priorities. So this was a perfect opportunity. I could handle Santana's barbs as best as anyone, and the chance of getting out of the house and socializing was not one that I was going to pass up. Daddy, however, saw things differently.

"Honey, you're asking to go to something tomorrow. You know how we feel about late-notice stuff! Who's taking you, who's bringing you back? We haven't even met Brittany's parents yet, let alone Brittany! I know you're really excited, and I'm glad you're making friends, but we need more information other than 'I'm going to the zoo tomorrow' and you kn-and don't you think pouting will be able to answer these questions, young lady. I mastered the Pout."

"Daddyyyy!" I hmphed, adding a stomp to really emphasize my point, my fists clenched. "This could be the social event that turns my life around completely! You could be denying me the chance at true friendship! Stop stealing away my Toto, you wicked old witch!"

He gasped, a hand flying to his chest. "Leroy, did you hear what our daughter just said to me?"

A chuckle escaped the hallway as Dad came home from the office, dropping his briefcase on the ground and kissing Daddy on the cheek before sitting at the table, and I could feel his gaze on me. "Yes, dear. And don't worry, I'm sure she meant the musical version of Gregory Maguire's Wicked novel, didn't you, Rachel?"

"No, and I didn't mean the one written by L. Frank Baum either! I meant the movie version! 1939 and everything, with the very Judy Garland herself!"

I could hear Dad sighing again, as my Daddy's temper almost escalated as high as my own. "Rachel Barbra, you calm down this instant, young lady! Leroy, you talk to her. I'm beside myself." I sat down at the dinner table, arms crossed and just as annoyed as ever. Daddy and I have always gotten into fights, you know this, but whenever they're happening they always seem to be of life or death consequences.

After a quick prayer, which Daddy spent cleaning off his glasses and I spent looking over at my Dad, we finally began to eat. Well, my fathers did. I spent my time adjusting my food from one side of my plate to the other, impatient as ever. _Don't they understand how vital this is? Not only are Brittany and Santana the most popular girls in our school, but they're also the the two other most talented dancers in the Academy! Should I become friends with them, my entire social status will be raised by notches! Not only that, but then I could finally eat in the lunch room. Or maybe they would want to sit on the benches outside when the weather is nice. And I could make them my famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! Oh, what a dream! _

I sighed loudly, trying to get Dad's attention. Nothing.

"Ahhhhhhh-"

Dad chuckled again, putting his silverware down. "Well, if there's one thing a Berry isn't, it's vague. What's the matter, Rachel?"

Success.

"Well, dearest father-" Daddy scoffed, earning a glare from me before sweetly returning my father's gaze. "As I was saying _earlier _before Daddy hurt my feelings so deeply, two girls from my school have invited me to a social event, and I would like to go very badly. I have already finished my homework for the weekend, and seeing as I have yet to spend this month's free time due to the fact that Grandma Berry didn't come to town like promised, I would like to use it to go to the zoo with two of my classmates."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad."

"Ask her when it is."

Dad looked at me expectantly. Drats. "Tomorrow?" I muttered.

"And what seems to be the problem?"

I squealed, ignoring Daddy's groan. "Is that a yes, then? Thank you, Dad, thank you thank you thank you! I shall find Brittany's father's number and have all of the information on your desk within the hour."

_What am I to wear? Is my owl sweater in the laundry basket or did I clean that last week?_

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><p>"Leroy!"<p>

"Hiram!"

"What happened to siding with your husband?"

"Did you see the smile on that girl's face? It was like someone gave her an all-access pass behind a Broadway stage. Sure, it's short notice, but it's not like we had anything planned anyway."

"But-"

"Now, I'm going to ask you the same question - what's wrong, honey?"

"I don't trust them, Leroy."

"They're children!"

"Children can be just as vicious as any grown adult, I promise you that. I just don't want Rachel's first experience like this to be bad."

"Don't worry, Hiram. Everything'll be fine."

"It better be."

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><p>"But why can't I swim with the penguins?"<p>

It had been three hours of this, and suddenly I was even more convinced that Brittany was a secret genius. In a matter of minutes of entering the park to now, she had already convinced the guard to let her: get a free bowl of fries, get us into the still-in-construction Dinosaur exhibit (until he pulled us out when Santana started to climb the exhibit), and even got us custom-made lizard lollipops. (Brittany was eating that now.)

The guard was putty in her hands.

Except now.

The older man sighed, already having explained this to the disappointed girl, before looking to me and Santana to do something before finally giving up and walking away. _Doesn't he realize how old we are?_ We both seemed to think, before Santana (as always) took charge of the situation.

"Brittany, don't even worry about them, okay? We can get our penguin on later."

She pouted slightly. "But they're so cute! And besides, it's my birthday!"

After about five minutes of pulling Brittany away from the locked door that held in the penguin exhibit, the three of us finally reached the area that I had wanted to be in since we even entered - the fish building. I know, that sounds like such a weird animal to be so fascinated in, but they always seemed so peaceful to me. Still do. Anyway, right wh-

* * *

><p><em>"Who is here for Quinn Fabray?"<em>

_Rachel looked up, puzzled at hearing her wife's name being called out so early. Was something wrong? It had only been a few hours, but from everything that Rachel heard, it usually took longer than that. She put her pen down softly on her notebook before walking towards the man. Her hands wringing, growing slightly more nervous by the second._

_"That's me, I'm Rachel Fabray. What seems to be the problem?"_

_The doctor laughed. 'How unprofessional.' If it weren't for the fact that Quinn expressly told her not to, she would be requesting for a new one hours ago. He was not the doctor they wanted to be handling this when they decided that they were ready to have a child. But Santana was on a red-eye from California and wouldn't be here for at least two more hours. Rachel thought that he would be a place-in at best, but if he already had something to tell her then -_

_"Yes? What do you need me for?" She glared at him, her small height not even noticeable when her eyes and entire body posture made Dr. Dawson feel as if he was could be easily killed by the young woman standing in front of him. He stopped chuckling immediately, and became somber._

_"I just wanted to tell you, that the contractions haven't started yet. I know she said she didn't want you in there, but-" He shrugged slightly. "She's asleep now, so I thought if you wanted to see her before your daughter was born, now was the best time."_

_Oh._

_Before she could say anything in response, he was gently leading her towards her wife's hospital room, shutting the door quietly behind him. She only barely registered the noise, however, at the sight before her. Even when pre-labor, Quinn Fabray was one of the most breathtaking individuals Rachel had ever met. The urge to stretch out and just make contact was almost too hard to bear, but then she shook her head. This wasn't the right time. She wanted to see her when her eyes were open, her smile stretched out, wanting Rachel to be there. Not like this._

_And so, she quietly left, almost eager to get back to her letter - really the only thing that was keeping her sane. She needed to write down everything that had happened between them._

_Before it was too late._

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry it took so long for an update. I kept changing my mind as to how I wanted this story to be written - linear or otherwise. After days upon days of over thinking it, I just decided to go with the original plan. Blast! Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Also, anyone who likes things written well should go see my friend EtherealPhoenix's stuff. She rocks.**

**Please review with comments, questions, & concerns, s'il vous plait! Part two of the Zoo should come soon!**


	3. Clownfish and Ice

_It took everything Rachel had to turn around and walk back towards the waiting room. Rachel didn't walk away from her problems. She stampeded towards them, pouring all of her endless perseverance __on them until they melted down into something completely manageable. But Quinn wasn't the problem._

_She was... confusing. And mystifying. And brilliant._

_But she wasn't the one keeping her from storming into that room and staying there. Not really. Because after sitting down in her chair, there, just coming back from his bathroom break, completely unaware that the doctor she just talked to had broken about ten rules by letting her see her wife, was Russell Fabray. His hand was wrapped iron-tight around his just-purchased copy of today's New York Times. She watched as he double-checked Quinn's hospital door was firmly shut, and then sat down in the chair right next to it, that he had pulled from the waiting room. He looked so... formal. Stiff collared shirt, ironed pants. Wearing the tie that he told people Quinn got for him on a Father's day, but was really handpicked by his assistant probably days before. He looked like he was going to a business meeting. But no. He was..._

_Rachel didn't want to think about it. That's all she had been doing the past 24 hours, ever since she-since Quinn- she held in a slight sob, and took a deep breath. Stay calm. All she could do now was write down everything. She had so much she thought she had a lifetime to tell Quinn, and the idea of just sitting here and twirling her metal band around her finger until a burn formed was unacceptable. And so, she looked down at her simple black and white composition notebook, one of three that she bought at the pharmacy just in case she wrote more than expected, and began to write.__  
><em>

* * *

><p>Anyway, right when Brittany, Santana, and I walked into the Fish Aquarium, I could tell that they were bored. We walked close to the class, and they were interesting to look at, but as seconds turned into minutes, Santana started fidgeting and Brittany started whispering to her about the fruit bats ("I wonder if they're called that because they eat fruits or they are fruits?") that were just over at the next building. At first, I decided to ignore it. But when it got to the point where their very prescense was interfering with my attention, I just snapped slightly. "I have my emergency whistle. Come get me when you're done." At which point, Brittany grabbed Santana by the pinky and pulled her away fast as you please.<p>

After a few minutes, it was quiet again. There was a part of me in the back of my mind that was slightly afraid that me saying anything to them ruined my chances today, but after realizing that probably, they just wanted to be left alone together and didn't care what I said, I relaxed and enjoyed the view. The clownfish looked familiar, but I couldn't place exactly where the orange and white reminded me of. The glass distorted the view, making them look strange, so I took a step closer, closely inspecting them as they went by.

"Oh, look you found him."

I turned around, confused, before gasping slightly. There you were. Your cheekbones were a little more defined, and your voice a little more sure, but after two years of thinking about less than five minutes of a conversation with a girl I barely knew, part of me thought I imagined the entire thing. But there you stood. You were holding a copy of a book in your hand, and you moved slightly from your left foot to your right for a few seconds until I realized you were waiting for me to reply. Did you recognize me? Should I re-introduce myself? Did my hair look okay? And so I didn't say anything.

"I mean... Nemo. Because he's a clownfish." You pointed towards the fish I was just seconds ago looking at with so much intent, and if I knew any better, you were blushing slightly. "From the movie?"

"Yes!" She flinched slightly at my sudden outburst, so I explained. "I was just thinking about why clownfish sounded so familiar to me. I like fish, but I don't normally remember all of their names that well. But I remembered this one. Because of the movie!"

"Oh... okay."

You were still fidgeting, so I took a step closer to you, smiling when you didn't look uncomfortable talking to me more. Your hair looked soft. It was longer now. If we were close, I probably would have asked to braid it at least a dozen times. But we weren't, and so instead we both just stood there, waiting for the other person to make a move. Part of me just wanted to say something, anything, and before I could curb myself words were leaving my mouth and I just kind of let it happen.

"I'm here with some people from school. It's her birthday."

"Oh, tell your friend happy birthday for me."

"She's not my friend. Or maybe she is now, I don't know."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "How don't you know if someone's your friend, Rachel?"

"It's complicated." It was hard to explain, even at twelve years old. My relationship with Brittany and Santana was sometimes useful, sometimes close, and sometimes chaotic, but it was never easy. "They're nice to me sometimes, but mean when they have to be. I don't think they mean to be, they're just... that's how they are." It did sound weird saying that, I remember that. Like I was defending myself for being so excited that I got to hang out with people that acted like they didn't like me very much. They didn't really know me. To be honest though, I didn't know them either. At this point, they were just two of the popular girls, two of the only girls who looked like they were actually friends with each other instead of fake friends like everyone else who sat at the popular table.

Wait... "You remember my name?" You remember me?

"Sure I do. I have a good memory. Rachel Barbra, as in Streisand. Right?"

Would it be cheesy to say I fell in love with you then? At the very least, I knew that you weren't just some quiet girl who was nice to everybody, but that you actually remembered what I said, word for word. It was... "Right. As in Streisand." I smiled, and you smiled in kind.

"So wait, where are they now?"

I straightened my back. "Next door, with the fruit bats." You looked like you wanted to say something, but kept hesitating. "Yes?"

"Well-" You looked around, biting your lip, before locking eyes with me again. "The fruit bats are on the other side of the Zoo. I come here all the time, whenever my dad has meetings in Columbus, so I know it. I don't even need the map." It didn't look like you were bragging, just stating fact. You always brag about the wrong things, Quinn.

"Oh." I wasn't naive enough to think that they would be waiting for me outside, but at the very least, I thought they would come get me once they realized they had their facts wrong. I tried not to frown, but it was kind of hard. We had been walking around for a few hours by this point, and my muscles were sore enough that the idea of walking around the park until I found Brittany's parents seemed exhausting. I looked down, sighing at my plight. I knew I would have a ride home (Brittany's parents weren't so bad as to leave me stranded.) But I didn't have a phone, or a way to reach them. I doubt they could hear my emergency whistle Daddy had bought for me from so far away. "Well, then, I suppose I'll just wait here until I am sent for. Thank you for telling me, I would have been worried if they hadn't shown up."

Silence.

"... Do you like carousels?"

I did, so off we went. I haven't been to the park ever since that one day, so I could very well have just had an over active imagination, but from what I remember, the park was huge. People surrounded us from every corner, and no matter how many times I tried to stand up on my toes, I couldn't see past the large looming shapes of the adults that were being pulled by their children to different areas of the park. When we first left the building, the idea of so many people around me was slightly claustrophobic, but once you put your hand around mind and gently led me towards where you said they would be, it didn't seem so bad. You seemed concentrated enough for the both of us on how to get there, so I just spent the few minutes looking around and enjoying the scenery.

The treetops provided enough shade for most of the park, but it was still warm enough outside that the jacket I brought was pretty much useless, still tied around my waist. Every such amount of feet, there would be a long line of people blocking the path because they were standing in front of an ice cream truck (or pretzels, or drink, depending on the season) and then just across a few benches filled with exhausted parents keeping an eye on their sticky-fingered children. Seeing the other kids with sweets made me slow for a bit, and even though I was trying to be as suave as possible about the sudden need to have water, my throat parched as I looked over at the people resting on the bench. If I was alone, I would have had no problem with sitting down and enjoying myself with the five dollars my dads gave to met to let me spend just in case Brittany's parents didn't buy me lunch (they did) and on anything else if they did, but I wasn't alone. I was with someone, and Daddy always said to be polite, and if I couldn't carry those behaviors with me through middle school, then I wouldn't be able to be the kind of person I wanted to be.

"Do you want one?"

I was so busy in my own head that I didn't even notice that I didn't just think about stopping, I actually stopped, and so did the girl who had been leading me. Her hand was soft, and didn't feel at all sweaty like the one time I had held Noah Puckerman's hand when he helped me up a staircase earlier that year when I sprained my ankle during dance class. His hand felt tough, like what beef jerky looked like it would feel like. After, he pushed Jacob down because people were staring at him for being nice to me.

Your hand felt like what I thought a cloud would feel like. "Excuse me?" I really hope my hands don't feel like sandpaper. I should put lotion on them, add that to my nightly ritual. Or wear gloves. Or both. I heard that Joan Crawford did both, and even though Mommy Dearest will probably be terrifying when I read it, at least my hands will be smoo-

"Rachel?"

"Yes?"

You pointed towards the cart, at the people who were getting the cups filled with flavored ice. "Do you want one? You were staring."

"Oh... no, thank you."

"Really?"

"... no, not really. I do want one. But it's six dollars and I only have five."

People walked past us as we stood in the pathway, blocking them. You rolled your eyes, and pulled me towards a bench with room for two people and firmly pushed my shoulders down. I opened my mouth to issue a protest, but was quickly silenced by the look on her face. I had only met you once before, but you seemed so demure then. I don't know if it was because we were so close to your family, or maybe it was because you weren't comfortable with the hotel whereas you seemed to know every crack and crease of this place. But this was the first time I saw your commanding face. It was a frightening contrast from the soft face I had seen on you before, and my eyes widened slightly as I shut up before you did anything.

A few seconds later, your eyes softened. "What flavor?"

"... Grape."

A nod. "Save our seats?"

I don't remember if I responded at all, but I must have, because you left and waited in the line.

Memory is a strange thing.

I can remember the exact shade of your eyes, or how soft your hair looked on our wedding day. I can remember to the second the first time you called me Rachel after all of your walls built back up in high school. Or the blue dress you wore the day you told me you didn't hate me, when I was so blinded by jealousy that I didn't see that what would hurt Finn would hurt you more.

But I can't remember anything else about that day. I can infer, of course. I must have eaten the ice cup. Knowing my own self, I probably didn't eat all of it because I still can't finish those. You did, because you don't like wasting things. Maybe you took me back right after we finished. Maybe you took me to the carousel that I've heard they're famous for, and you held my hand while I went up and down the horse. But when it comes down to it, I can't remember every detail of a day that happened when I was eleven, however great the day was.

But I do remember this much:

The day was ending. I could see Brittany and Santana by the exit, getting scolded by her parents for ditching me and then forgetting to look for me. Brittany was of course ignoring them, paying more attention to a huge stuffed giraffe in her arms, and Santana kept half-glaring half-curiously scanning the people who walked past them to find me. Brittany's mother looked slightly panicked. But I had no urge to walk over. Because I didn't want to not see you again for another year. I knew you didn't live in Lima. If you did, I would have seen you before now.

I turned towards you, trying to memorize every detail in your face. You stood completely still, letting me, and once I was done, I finally croaked out some words. "Is this the end?"

You smiled slightly at how dramatic I was being, and asked me for a piece of paper and a pencil, turning me around with a spin of your finger so you could use my back to write something down. I'm sure your eyebrows were furrowed, and that piece of hair kept falling into your eyesight so it took you a few minutes. When you tapped my shoulder, I turned back around and saw nothing in your hands. You pointed towards my book bag.

"Don't read it until later, okay?"

"Okay."

For a brief moment, your arms wrapped around my waist. And then you were gone.

It was only until later that I remembered the note. You had scribbled down a phone number, and an address.

And, a message.

* * *

><p>I held it close to me, reading it at least ten times and then after that just staring at the swirls and loops and curves of your handwriting. Brittany and Santana pretty much ignored me the ride home, and for that I was grateful. I was preoccupied enough, and if they had tried to talk to me, they would have not liked the vague answers they would have gotten as to where I was all day.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Of course not. It's only the beginning<em>.

You always did know how to make an exit.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you thank you thank you for not giving up on me with this story. For a while, I didn't know where I wanted this story to go (well, I did, but too many options!) but now I have a handle on everything, so expect quick updates! And if not, bother me until I give them to you. Guilt always works best. And chocolate. Anyway, please review if you'd like and I can't wait to hear what you think! Expect the next chapter this weekend, sooner if possible.**


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